Show to : Only me, private
by imagined-experiences
Summary: A serie of private blog posts by John Watson. Started at Schermionie demand. Set somewhere during series two. Request are open.
1. The man who fooled the government

10th September, 2011.

**The man who fooled the British government. **

Mycroft Holmes came to visit Sherlock and me in Baker Street four days ago with a pressing, delicate case to give to Sherlock's good care. A man stole a very important briefcase some hours ago, and they could find it by themselves.

The man in question, François Pignon, French citizen on holidays for a week in London, was apparently a genius thief and was presently laughing at the British secret services by managing to escape them in the most outrageous ways.

Mycroft's men had searched the suite the man was staying in London with no result. The tailing of the man didn't help at all, and, for him being a French citizen with a very good cover, they couldn't arrest him either. So naturally, Sherlock's brother asked us for help.

Sherlock had taken the case only after obtaining some compensations, but I knew that the super-thief actually interested him. Mycroft explained to us the scheme the man used to steal the briefcase as well as the full 'identity' of the man. The cover was perfect and utterly irreproachable. How the man had managed to get it was still puzzling the government officials.

François Pignon, working in a small insurance company in the West of France, won a trip to London via a local radio. Five star hotels suite, tours of the city and, of course, déjeuné at one of the most praised restaurants in London where the secret agent had his briefcase exchanged.

The exchange had happened at the view of all around noon of the same day Mycroft visited us. Upon sitting his table, the French man knocked up the sommelier who himself pored the wine he was serving on our agent. The agent is formal, the staff of the restaurant was not aware of anything. All was too natural for him to have any doubt. The agent soaked in wine with all the waiters looking after him didn't notice that the man posed a very similar briefcase near his own one, on the seat right next him. Witnesses reported, "the blond man," our culprit, "was careless. He deposed the briefcase on the chair before sitting at his table that was just on the right. While sitting down, he also dropped his own jacket on the floor, took his feet on the tablecloth while waiting to pick it up. Which had for consequence to break the flower vase on the table and thus they had to change him seat. He took his things, including the briefcase, and they put him next to the kitchen."

The agent realised he had the wrong briefcase only when the man had already left the restaurant. He questioned the people around him (see testimony above), and immediately alerted his department. He went through the exchanged briefcase and noticed that the thief had left them his identity paper and some insurance related papers, probably for his 'work'. Mycroft didn't know if it was just for the cover or if the man was mocking, taunting them.

Since the man directly left on a tour of London exhibits, the agents were able to go through the things in the suite, but they had found nothing of interest. Mycroft repeated it to us again, it was a perfect cover. Sherlock asked him if he was impressed, which of course lead to a little squabble. I find them more amusing than irritating by now.

The searching of the hotel had happened one hour ago. Men started to follow the culprit as soon as informed, but he already had hidden the briefcase. The CCTV cameras showed nothing. And Pignon had interposed one of the men following him to ask for a cigarette. Sherlock was delighted, I could see it. Pignon was very bold. My friend had interest for that man. However, nothing could be done the same day, and we had to wait the morning to start our own inquisition.

Sherlock's first thought was that the man had anticipated us searching the briefcase, and thus removed the papers from inside before hiding the case itself. He launched several people of his network on the search of it to confirm.

Meanwhile, our task was to found the papers. Papers were easy to conceal; the man could still have them on him. Sherlock wanted a direct confrontation. The CCTV informed us that the man was taking breakfast in his hotel near Piccadilly, we took a cab to the hotel right away. We waited for him at the entrance of the hotel. Sherlock thought to encounter him the moment he would hail a cab or start walking. But things didn't go like planned.

Pignon came to us straightly, extending his hand to salute Sherlock. Once in front of us, he shook his head and apologized. He thought he knew us, but apparently not.

The act left Sherlock and I dumbfounded. Though Sherlock was perceptive enough to notice the man had no papers on him, and that, indeed, the cover was perfect. There was nothing to deduce that would contradict it. 'Even the worn out shoes and mismatching socks, John! The man is a genius.' Little he knew.

The CCTV lost track of the man that day. He was very good at avoiding them, entering cabs or buses at the right moments, using the tube. This last fact made Sherlock almost reticent to follow him.

We gave up that day around five pm, but Mycroft informed us that Pignon had booked a golf initiation for the day after. Mycroft thought it very plausible that the selling of the papers would happen on that golf, especially since someone who could be interested in the papers would be there. For obvious reasons, I can't share the identity of the man in question. I will call him the Russian.

We were on the golf at the first hour of the morning. Sherlock and I had adapted our clothes to mend in the crowds. It was a funny sight.

Pignon arrived around eleven, the Russian was already playing. 'Per chance' their course met at Hole number 3. Sherlock and I decided to wait for them here.

What happened after can't properly be narrated without images. It was film comedy worth.

Pignon, sans the papers, Sherlock had noticed, hit the Russian straight in the head with his putter. Our man was incredibly sorry for hitting the now bleeding Russian and went to help him. In his way to the hurt man, Pignon almost fell, his feet tangled in the Russian's golf bag which went straight in the water near. There were 1500 £ worth of material at least according to Sherlock.

Sherlock took the opportunity of me being a doctor to go over and introduce himself to Pignon and the very upset Russian. The French man recognized Sherlock straight away. In a very broken English, he explained to us how much of a fan of Sherlock he was. He then remembered our meeting the day before and apologized. He often mistook celebrities for friends.

While I tended the bleeding man, Sherlock listened Pignon talk about his fantastic journey in London. My friend was delighted I could see. Once the Russian man in the hands of the golf staff, I joined them. Sherlock didn't wait to ask bluntly the man about the briefcase.

'It is at the restaurant,' he told us. As soon as he had realised it wasn't his, he returned it. Unfortunately no one returned his. Which was a shame, he had all his papers inside.

I need to be honest, at this moment, I laughed. Sherlock was not laughing though. He had been wrong. The cover wasn't a cover at all, and the man who fooled the British government was a clumsy fool in holiday. A joke.

But at least, I told Sherlock as we were leaving the golf, he would be able to rub it to Mycroft face. It put a small smile on my friend's face.

EDIT : setting, Private post.

* * *

The setting of this post has been updated to 'private' at Mycroft's demand. The government doesn't want to be reminded of his embarrassment.

* * *

_Disclaimers: François Pignon is a borrowed character. His name is often used in French films and plays to portray a character found in situations that are beyond him, even situations he doesn't realise are happening. He is portrayed as candid, clumsy and naïve. _

_I do not own François Pignon, nor Sherlock. _

Dedicated to Schermionie, an awesome friend.

Request are open. I'll write them if I manage to make fit the canon of the second serie.


	2. Untitled 1

draft -** untitled post (1)**

_October the 8th, 18:22_

Need to write this down. Just witnessed a woman leaving Sherlock's room. She barely acknowledged me. Just smiled before taking the door. Sherlock came out the room shortly after, rearranging his jacket (!) and exited the flat too. He didn't see me.

I don't understand. Sherlock is not on a case. When I left this morning, he was 'bored, bored, bored'. I come home at six in the evening and a woman is just leaving his room. I need to be honest, she looked like a prostitute. The kind of prostitute posh people would call anyway. Tall, brunette, impeccable make-up and hair. The kind of clothes The Woman wore. Heels that made her legs seem one meter long at least. Attractive, definitely attractive. She didn't wear the pink of media nor the several pocketed bag of the office workers. Her hands and manicure were neat. Tried to apply Sherlock's methods with only one result : she is a prostitute, or a random acquaintance of Sherlock. Definitely a prostitute.

* * *

_October the 8th, 21:43_

Asked Sherlock about the woman. I was right. She is an escort, but prefers to be called a 'personal entertainer' according to him.

Right. It doesn't give me a clue on what Sherlock would have to do with a woman like her. Still not an a case. Well, he didn't tell me about a case, and he usually likes to boast about his findings when he is on one.

Sherlock can't be having sex, can he?

* * *

_October the 8th, 22:51_

Sherlock is making innuendos now. Bloody awful. While I was typing that draft about him and the personal entertainer, he looked at me and said "don't be so serious, John. Or life will suck, and not in the good way."

I'm pretty sure he winked. Or not, but it was there. That woman has an influence on him.

* * *

_October the 9th, 17:30_

He just left with "Linda". He told me he was on a case for Mycroft this morning and now he is leaving in his opera suit with Linda at his arm!

I don't understand Sherlock. Never did though. But usually he follows a kind of logic. This has none. I need confrontation. Staying up until he comes back. Have some telly shows I meant to catch up on anyway.

* * *

_October the 9th, 22:54_

Can't concentrate on the shows. It must be a case. It has to be. 'Women aren't my area'. He said it. And even though he had had that kind of intellectual crush on Irene Adler, I can't see him joy the company of Linda. Case. But what case?

* * *

_October the 10th, 00:24_

"She can do things you can't, John." That's what he said to me last night. He didn't elaborate more. He is playing with me I am sure of it. Do things I can't. Bloody hell.

* * *

_October the 10th, 10:22_

The Git. Of course it'd be for a case. And what she could do that I couldn't was speak Italian and seduce a government dignitary while Sherlock looked for what he needed. Mycroft had proposed to him to use one of his agents, but Sherlock preferred an alternative version.

I have been an idiot.

Not posting this on the blog. Definitely not.


End file.
